


The scorching plains of J’daghn ba

by Thepyramidsloth



Category: LOVECRAFT H. P. - Works
Genre: Eldritch, Freeform writing, Other, anonymous main character, lovecraft, unknown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thepyramidsloth/pseuds/Thepyramidsloth
Summary: An explorer of the strange and occult crashes in the mysterious ruins of a scorched city. He must find his way back to civilization before the desert’s heat kills him. However, many shadows and creeping beings lurk about J’daghn ba.





	The scorching plains of J’daghn ba

**Author's Note:**

> More of an homage to Lovecraft’s work. Much of it is written without a clear goal in mind as an exercise in creativity. Plus I really do love the writing style of Lovecraft books. Don’t worry it won’t just stop somewhere I am planning on writing a proper ending. Chapters will likely be pretty short.

Under the blazing desert sun in far off lands of unknowable whereabouts lies the sun bleached structures which crumble inwards from their spherical spires and forgotten bridges whose use has been lost to time.

None except the most inquisitive dare go to the place once known as J’daghn ba.  
The region is regularly struck with titanous sandstorms which sweep away and stifle any life which clings about the detestable ruins.

I myself was loathe to enter such a place and would not have done so but in dire need. It was indeed peril which swept me to those horrible monolithic structures that burned with heat from the unforgiving sun. Even the few shadows seemed to recoil in fear of the blazing ground upon which they were cast.

I suppose it was sheer irony that brought me to the city, for I had been meddling too long in the occult and digging up stories of fantastic places of glass and precious stones.  
On route to a destination only partially known to myself via a crude map drawn by one of the aged temple sages my biplane encountered one such storm of dust and debris that stung my face and rendered my vision useless in detection of my altitude.

I was currently in a state of shock, the swirling flames cast from the fuel tank were blown tempestuous wind into columns of blazing fury which bore down upon my battered form as I crawled my way across the unforgiving sand.

Everything burned. Every exhausting movement I made, every breath of air. All were hideous with the wrath of hellfire. I felt my airways be sucked of all their moisture and my tongue lay dry and stuck inside my mouth. This was country that did not know the name of water.


End file.
